


All My Favourite Conversations

by mikhaiilo



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Fluff, Gallavich, M/M, Ukrainian Mickey, but ian won't shut up, mickey just wants to go to sleep, season 4, they also have really dumb conversations, they also talk about mama milkovich, they have important conversations
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-29
Updated: 2016-12-29
Packaged: 2018-09-12 16:56:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9081367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikhaiilo/pseuds/mikhaiilo
Summary: "You and me were raised in the same part of town, got these scars on the same ground."Or in the wee hours of the morning, Mickey is trying to sleep, but Ian has a lot on his mind. (Inspired somewhat by the song AM by 1D.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys! this is my first shameless fic, and my first fanfiction for a while in general, so i'm sorry if anyone is OOC. it's really short, i know. feedback is much appreciated!
> 
> this is loosely based on the song AM by one direction, because i think the part in the description really suits them. it takes place between the night mickey came out and the morning they find out ian is bipolar. thanks for reading :)

Peace and quiet. Something you don't normally get in the Milkovich house. You can find many familiar sounds in the tiny building, like the sound of an old, squeaking bed hitting the wall as its occupants grunt and groan, or the ear-splitting sound of a wailing baby, or the sound of an argument between a man and a Russian woman. 

But as of now, the only sounds you can hear were the old house creaking and moaning, and the silent breath of Mickey Milkovich as he snoozed away on his stomach, nose twitching as he dreamed. You can also hear the distant 'whoosh' of cars that pass by, the common police siren here and there. And then the flick of Ian Gallagher's lighter as he lit his cigarette. 

He looked to the side to read the alarm clock that was resting on the bedside table. 4 AM. He knew Mickey had to wake up in three or four hours to manage the Rub 'N' Tug and that he should probably let him sleep, but his mind raced with questions and realizations and thoughts that were louder than the sound of silence that occupied the room. He lifted up to rest on his elbow and leaned in close to Mickey, mouth hovering close to his ear. "Mick," he whispered. When he got no response, he lifted his other hand to lightly shake his partners shoulder. "Hey, Mickey. Wake up."

The older man let out an annoyed noise as he attempted to bat Ian's hand away, and Ian chuckled.

"What - what's wrong?" Mickey asked sleepily, rubbing his glassy eyes with his fists in a way that made him look 5 years younger, and Ian was sure that if Mickey were awake enough to see the way Ian was smiling down at him, he would flip him off and call him a sap. "Nothing, I just can't sleep." 

Mickey raised his eyebrows, shifting so he could sit up without hurting his already aching body. "And that's my problem because...?" 

"Because I need someone to entertain me until I can fall back asleep." Ian responded, taking a puff of his cigarette. Mickey rolled his eyes, reaching for Ian's mouth to steal the cigarette. "You got insomnia or somethin'? I heard you waking up every night for the past like, week." Ian, touched that Mickey had actually noticed, grinned. "Nope, never had it before. Guess it's just the time of year or something." 

Mickey pulled the cigarette out of his mouth, gray smoke escaping his mouth as he spoke, "How're your ribs feeling?" 

Ian winced, raising his hand to lightly touch a dark purple spot that had a yellow ring around it just under his right peck. "They've been better. How's your face?" Mickey raised his hand to lightly touch his split lip. "I've had worse." 

The silence was back for a moment, the two of them passing the cigarette back and forth until Ian put it out in the ashtray on the night table. They sat side by side for another moment, before Ian asked, "Do you regret it?" 

Mickey raised his eyebrows again, forehead scrunching up. "Hm?" 

"Coming out. Do you regret it?" 

The lines in Mickey's forehead smoothed down, and Mickey looked at his hands in his lap and answered honestly, "No. Not one bit." 

Ian smiled and angled his body closer to Mickey, pleased when Mickey didn't pull away. "Good." 

Mickey turned to him. "That the only thing on your mind?" 

Ian thought before answering, "Do you think Mike Wazowski winks or blinks?" 

Mickey's head snapped towards him again, eyebrows raised impossibly higher than last time. "What the fuck?" 

"It's a serious question! Which one is it? He has one eye, Mick!" Ian's arms flailed as his eyes widened, voice rising. Ian looked genuinely distressed about this Mike Wa-whatever guy, and Mickey was growing increasingly confused. "Who the fuck is Mike?" 

Ian blinked once, twice. "Mike Wazowski? You know, the green guy from Monsters Inc?" 

Mickey scratched he back of his neck. "I've never fucking seen Monsters Inc." 

Ian shot up, forgetting momentarily about his bruised ribs. "You've never seen Monsters Inc?!" 

Mickey shrugged. "Nah, man. Me or my siblings never cared much about TV or anything growing up, and my dad only ever let Mandy watch Disney movies." 

Ian's eyes saddened and his mood shifted into anger at the mention of Terry. Of course Mickey probably didn't have a childhood movie growing up, because Terry probably never cared enough to pay attention to what his children wanted. Ian couldn't find one baby picture of Mickey or Mandy around the house, or any of the other Milkovich kids. He hated that one man could cause two of the most important people in his life so much fear and pain, and beating the shit out of him the other night at the Alibi was the best feeling in the world. 

"It's Liam's favourite movie. Next time we're with him you could watch it." 

Mickey snorted. He was about to ask Ian why the fuck he would care about a Disney movie now, but instead he just shrugged and mumbled "Sure." 

The silence returned. Mickey laid back down and settled back in for bed, nearly reaching sleep when Ian's voice cut through his consciousness again. 

"I'm sorry," he blurted out. Mickey turned over. "The fuck you sorry for?" 

"Well, for basically forcing you to come out, I guess. You weren't ready and I'm sorry. That was shitty," Ian admitted. "Hey, don't be sorry," Mickey said firmly. "You were right, I was bein' a hypocrite. If what happened that night didn't happen, I...don't think I ever woulda done it." 

Ian shrugged. "Well, still. Sorry." Mickey shook his head.

"Can I go the fuck back to sleep now?" Mickey asked, and Ian couldn't stop staring at his eyebrows. They were so fucking expressive. 

"Wait, I've always wondered...are you a cat person or a dog person?" 

Mickey sighed rubbing a hand down his face, mindful of his bruises. "Seriously, man. It's fucking 4:30, I got work in the morning." 

"Okay, okay, just answer this one though, then I'll leave you alone."

"Fine. I guess I never really thought of it much..." Mickey looked thoughtful. "Cats, I guess." 

Ian raised his eyebrows. "Wow, really?" 

"Yeah. Cats keep to themselves, don't really give any fucks. Dogs are too clingy and slobbery." 

Ian smirked, scooting closer to Mickey and draping his larger body over him. "I thought you were the type to have a scary pack of pit bulls," he said lowly in his ear. Mickey shivered and suppressed a chuckle as Ian's breath tickled his neck. 

"Hey, wanna know what I just realized?"

Mickey sighed. "Not really." Ian ignored him and continued. 

"That you're a cat, and I'm a dog," he started. Mickey wanted to ask him what the fuck he was talking about. "You're the cat who keeps to himself and doesn't give any fucks, and I'm the slobbery, clingy dog." To prove his point, Ian started placing wet kisses down Mickey's neck, sucking into his skin. Mickey unconsciously leaned his head back, giving Ian better access to his throat. 

"Did you just call me a fucking cat to get in my pants?" Ian's kisses kept going lower and lower as he let out a husky, "Yup."

Ian flipped Mickey on his back in a swift movement and looked up at him with a cheeky grin from where he was hovering above Mickey's boxers. "Did it work?" 

Apparently, it did.

Twenty minutes later and it's almost 5 AM, and they're both laid on their backs, trying to catch their breath. They began to pass a cigarette back and forth again.

"You know I have to wake up in like, two hours?" Mickey asked. Ian smirked. "So much for that. Kev can hold the fort for a while, right? You could take a day off." He turned over onto his side and stroked Mickey's arm. Mickey just closed his eyes and accepted the intimacy, turning on to his side also and squirming closer to Ian. When they were together like this, quiet and alone, Mickey allowed himself to open up and let Ian do whatever he wanted. His eyes and voice would soften, and his rough, calloused hands would become tender, gentler, and the threat tattooed on his knuckles would become a mere bluff. Ian soaked it up whenever Mickey got like that, because he got like that for him and only for him. 

"Maybe," Mickey answered, burying his hand in Ian's hair. "I dunno. Maybe I'll get to sleep in an extra hour or two. He still owes me for trying to rob me with my own gun."

Ian snorted, and it was finally quiet again. 

Until... "Hey, Mick?" 

Micky was going to just ignore him and pretend he was asleep, but something in Ian's voice told him to open his eyes. Something in his tone was tentative, almost hesitant, so Mickey answered with an exasperated "What?"

"How come...I mean, you never..." The younger man rubbed his eyes with the heel of his palms, and Mickey raised an eyebrow. "Spit it out, man." 

"You never really talk about your mom, so...why? I mean, Mandy told me a bit about her but not much, and I was always curious. You don't have to answer if-" 

Mickey chuckled. "Calm the fuck down, Gallagher," then he shrugged. "I don't know...there's not much to tell. I mean, she was a junkie, Terry beat on her, OD'd on some heavy shit." 

Ian nodded pensively. "Do you ever, y'know, miss her?"

Mickey thought for a while, before saying quietly, "I dunno. Maybe? She wasn't mother of the year or anything, not by a long shot, but...she was better than Terry."

At that, Ian brought his arms around Mickey's waist and buried his face in the top of the black hair. "She taught me how to speak Ukrainian." Mickey said suddenly.

"You know how to speak Ukrainian?" Ian asked. Mickey nodded. Ian leaned back a bit to look him in the face. "Say something!"

Mickey smirked. "Дратує рудий НЕ заткнутися." Ian blinked. "What does that mean?"

"It means 'an annoying redhead won't shut the fuck up'." Ian smacked him on the arm. "Fuck you, asshole!" he yelled, chuckling. Mickey laughed too, rubbing where Ian hit him. "Well shut up and go to sleep, bitch."

"Seriously though, I can't believe I've known you and Mandy for years and I never knew you could speak Ukrainian. Why didn't you tell me?"

Mickey shrugged. "It never came up, I guess," he answered. "She only taught me and Mandy how to speak it. None of the others know." Ian smiled. "Maybe you can teach me some time." Mickey smiled back. "Maybe."

"Sometimes...sometimes I kinda miss Monica," Ian admitted quietly. Mickey scrunched his face up. "Why?" From what Ian told him, he knew Monica was sick and didn't take her meds, and he knew it was always in and out with her. He'd seen the way it affected Ian and the other Gallagher's whenever she rolled back around, so he wondered why the fuck Ian would miss her if she would just leave again.

"I know I shouldn't, but... I dunno. Everyone always says how much I look like her, or how alike we are, and even if she put us through some fucked up shit, she's-"

"Still your mom." Mickey interrupted. Ian raised his eyebrows, before nodding. "Yeah. She's still my mom."

Mickey nodded. He got it. While his mom was a junkie and a drunk, at least she gave a shit, unlike Terry. If Mickey was honest with himself, he missed his mom too. She probably would have liked Ian.

Ian understood, too. He reached over and took Mickey's hand in his own, fingers playing with Mickey's tattooed ones. 

Suddenly, Ian's voice came again, in a completely different tone than before. "So, you speaking Ukrainian...that was pretty hot." 

Mickey smirked. "Oh yeah?" Ian bit his lip and nodded. "Wonder what else you can say in Ukrainian?"

"Well c'mere and you'll find out." Mickey replied, winking, before gripping Ian and flipping him over, laughing. The two of them wrestled, not a care in the world. It was as if they were the last people on Earth. No one else in the house existed. Terry didn't exist, Monica didn't exist, the silence that engulfed the house just before didn't exist. Just them.

Neither of them got much sleep that night, and Mickey left Kev to fend for himself at the Rub 'N' Tug the next morning. They slept in all day, the closed bedroom door keeping them sheltered from the chaos that was around them. Mickey knew something wasn't right with Ian, he could feel it. He wasn't sure if it was the drugs he was taking from that sad excuse for a club he danced at or if it was something else, but that morning nothing else mattered besides the peace and quiet.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah sorry if the Ukrainian is messed up, I just used Google translate. again, i apologize if there is any OOC-ness but hey, practice makes perfect, right? 
> 
> you can find me at ietitgobrother on twitter! PS: mickey is TOTALLY a cat person.


End file.
